


Golden Dandelions

by deathlytireddan



Series: tumblr prompts [6]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, Phil still does youtube, Sappy and silly, dan plays piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 13:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14716895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlytireddan/pseuds/deathlytireddan
Summary: Phil’s been not so subtly watching the man play for the last few nights, unable to look away even if he wanted to. The passion is mesmerizing, the effortless movements and the way the man’s body gently sways as his arms move.





	Golden Dandelions

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Piano playing bar man dan and the phil who woos him (or tries to) 
> 
> I changed it a little bit, but I hope you still like it!
> 
> Warnings: none

_He came to me in rows of white_

_In the corner of my room_

_A specter of the night_

_Silhouetted by the moon_

_We’re floating fast over traffic lights_

_Bearing down on blackened skies_

_Colors burst as I close my eyes_

_Ooh—ooh, and he said_

_Lay me down in golden dandelions_

_‘Cause I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life_

_Follow me into the dark_

_Ooh—ooh_

_He said lay me down in golden dandelions_

_‘Cause I’ve been waiting_

_A thousand pictures in my mind_

_In a painting of the past_

_I’m brushing over lines_

_And I’ll paint them all again_

_We’re floating fast over traffic lights_

_Nearing down on blackened skies_

_Colors burst as I close my eyes_

_Ooh-ooh, and he said_

_Lay me down in golden dandelions_

_‘Cause I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life_

_Follow me into the dark_

_Ooh—ooh_

_He said lay me down in golden dandelions_

_‘Cause I’ve been waiting_

_‘Cause I’ve been waiting_

_And aren’t we bright_

_In the candlelight_

_I will cradle all these memories_

_‘Til the end_

_And he said_

_Lay me down in golden dandelions_

_‘Cause I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life_

_Follow me into the dark_

_Ooh—ooh_

_He said lay me down in golden dandelions_

_‘Cause I’ve been waiting_

_Yeah, I’ve been waiting_

_‘Cause I’ve been waiting_

Hands deftly move down the keys, seeming weightless as they pick out black and white notes, eyes closed and lip pulled back into a red mouth. He’s sweaty, hair falling in dark ringlets over his forehead and making his skin glow golden. 

Phil’s been not so subtly watching the man play for the last few nights, unable to look away even if he wanted to. The passion is mesmerizing, the effortless movements and the way the man’s body gently sways as his arms move.

Phil’s been in New York for Creator Summit. Everyone has left now, but Phil had found himself indefinitely extending his stay in the hotel. Exploring New York by day, taking the lift down to the cocktail lounge in the basement by night. 

It’s a silly thing to do. He has no plans to even speak to the man, and yet....he’s drawn back here. He’ll have to leave soon, he knows.

Phil can practically hear his angry houseplants muttering and plotting revenge, can imagine all the dust collecting on his shelves. He needs to put up a new video, answer emails and finally finalize that sponsorship. 

And yet. 

The music stops, ending in a few quick notes high up and then a single one down at the end, the deep, rich sound going on and on. Phil can see the man’s foot holding a pedal down, the sound dissipating into the air. 

Then the man stands. 

Phil straightens up. This hasn’t happened before. He’s normally here for hours, until close to one in the morning. But he’s walking to the bar, taking a bottle of water.

“We have a surprise for you!” A woman says into a microwave. “Dan, our piano man, has hurt his voice for a while. But he’s back in action and ready to sing for you!” 

The room claps and someone whistles, but Phil is too frozen to move. 

_Dan._

Phil looks back to Dan and sees him rolling his eyes at her, looking exasperated. He walks back to the piano. “It was only a sore throat, but I didn’t want to make you all listen to that.”

He has an English acccent. Soothing, familiar. It’s almost as surprising as hearing him speak for the first time. 

Phil’s been imaging him with an American accent all this time, fitting perfectly into his surroundings. But that accent makes him seem a little out of place, a little odd. 

Dan clears his throat, taking the microphone from her. “Thank you, Yvette.” He wipes his forehead with his sleeve. “I’ve seen a couple regulars the last couple days,” his eyes linger on Phil. “I hope you enjoy.” 

Dan takes the microphone from Yvette and sets it on a stand, takes a seat on the piano bench. 

And opens his mouth. 

Phil’s opens, too, probably. 

It’s beautiful. Raw, deep, painful at times, then suddenly swooping up into a high, crystal clear voice like the keys at the end of the piano he’s playing. 

The people around Phil gradually look away and return to conversation, but he stays where he’s seated, hand around a lukewarm glass and paying no attention to anyone else.

A few times, he thinks Dan’s eyes are on him, and his cheeks turn rosy. But Dan always turns back to his piano. The center of his universe, it seems. 

—

Phil stays until late, and leaves a couple minutes before one. He doesn’t want to leave at the same time Dan does, thinks that would look creepy. 

He’s standing outside the lift, suppressing a yawn as he watches the numbers go down. 

“Hey.” 

Phil jumps and turns. It’s Dan. 

Close up he looks different. His edges seem softer, fuzzier, than the stark outline he makes on stage. He seems to take up more space when he’s on the bench, but alone he just looks a bit awkward. 

“Hi,” Phil manages.

Dan is taller than him. It’s hot, in a way that would normally make him feel silly, but he’s tired enough to just appreciate it and not care.

Dan shifts. “Did you like the show?” His eyes flick up to the numbers on the lift. Phil can see the way his lips are an unhappy red, chapped, a crack down the middle. 

The lift is almost here. Phil doesn’t want him to leave.

“Yeah. It was...really good.” Phil wants to yell at himself. He can’t seem to make his mouth move the way he wants.

No, he’s going to compliment this person, who’s biting his lip and looks just as awkward as Phil feels. It gives him a bit of confidence. 

“You’re incredible,” he finally says, as the lift dings. 

Dan looks surprised. He smiles, ducking his head. “Thanks.” 

Phil doesn’t want to let him go. 

“How long have you played?” 

“Almost twenty years.” Dan smiles wryly. “Long time, I know.” He shakes his head. “It makes me feel so old saying it.”

The lift dings and opens. Phil starts toward it, desperately hoping Dan will follow. He does, settling beside Phil as Phil presses his floor number, making the button glow and the lift start up. 

“I always wanted to play an instrument. I wish I had.”

“You still could.” Dan’s eyes seem to light up when he talks about his music. “There’s a lot of benefits too, you know.”

“Maybe I will.”

“You should.” They gaze at each other, Phil desperately fighting off a blush, until he realizes Dan hasn’t pressed a button. 

“Wait, what’s your floor?” He asks, sounding too abrupt and making himself wince internally. “Or you live in a flat? Apartment?” 

Dan flushes, screwing and unscrewing the cap on his water bottle. “Yes. Uh. I didn’t want to say bye?” He hesitates. “You’ve kept coming to see me—unless you just really like cocktails? But I didn’t think so because you’re in New York, why would you go to the same cocktail lounge? Unless—“

Phil cuts him off, “I’ve been watching you.” 

That sounds terrible out loud, and Phil wants to sink through the floor and out the bottom of the lift. But Dan’s mouth is twitching, and then they're both laughing. 

“Do you wanna get dinner?” Dan asks. “I know it’s fucking late, but I haven’t eaten in hours and was just going to get sad lonely take out.”

Phil would like nothing more. “Please, yes.”

Dan smiles again. He does that a lot, Phil is starting to notice, but this one is a little smaller, a little realer than the way he’d smiled at Yvette downstairs. “Good.”

—

They end up in a deli. It’s so New York of them Dan even says so with a laugh. 

They end up at a little table, their long legs barely fitting, knees knocking together, watching cars pass by. The city doesn’t seem any different from daytime, no less busy and maybe even louder with no blue sky to absorb the sound. 

“How long have you lived here?” Phil asks, watching Dan open his can of Diet Coke. Phil didn’t think he had a hand kink until today, but he’s rethinking that now.

Dan tilts his head back to swallow the drink. 

Phil opens his own drink quickly, ducking his head to hide his blush.

Their knees are still pressed together and he can feel Dan tapping his foot on the floor.

“A year and a half,” Dan says, setting the drink down. “I’ve managed to hold onto the accent so far, but I actually called a lift an elevator yesterday.” He shudders. 

“You won’t be allowed back into the motherland,” Phil says seriously. 

Dan laughs. “Oh no.” 

And Phil remembers he’ll be going home soon, away from New York. He takes a bite of his sandwich to cover up his expression. Long distance relationships can work, but—

He stops himself. They’ve just met a half hour ago. There’s no point getting attached, though he probably already is.

“Phil.” Dan’s voice is quiet, he’s looking away down at his food. “I don’t know how long you’re in New York for, but I’d love to see you again.” 

Phil nods several times even though Dan isn’t looking. He feels like running through the streets, organizing a parade and having everyone hold up signs _he wants to see me again!_

Phil clears his throat. Dan looks up. “Me too. I really, really want to see you again. Are you free tomorrow? Or is that too short notice? Because—“

“Are you leaving after that, then?” Dan says, neutral, but his hands are tense.

“No. I, uh, came here for a work thing, but I liked the city—“ the _and you_ goes unsaid, “and extended my stay with the hotel. Indefinitely.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

“Well. That’s good. I should really show someone around the city and, like, look at it myself. Haven’t actually seen that much of it.” Dan is grinning, wide and happy, and he nudges Phil’s knee with his own. 

“Tour guide Daniel.” Phil says, giddy with relief.

“No, tour guide Howell. Dan Howell.” Dan holds out his hand.

Phil looks at it. Even from here he knows it’ll be warm, and bigger than his own. He takes it carefully, skin pressing together and wrists held unnecessarily close.

He hopes Dan can’t feel his pulse. 

“Phil Lester,” Phil says. 

Dan shakes his hand gently, barely moving. Eyes scanning Phil’s face. “It’s nice to meet you, Phil.” 

Oh. Phil laughs, covering his mouth with his other hand. “I didn’t introduce myself!” 

That’s the biggest social fail he’s had in a long time. 

“No,” Dan laughs with him. “You didn’t.” He releases Phil’s hand slowly and takes out his phone, unlocking it. “Here, put your number in.” 

Phil smiles, suddenly shy. “Okay.” 

He doesn’t know where this will go, feels ridiculously silly with how much he likes Dan already. But Dan is looking at him through his eyelashes, eyes crinkled up, and he thinks maybe this will go somewhere warm and golden and bright.

**Author's Note:**

> :)
> 
>  [reblog on tumblr!](https://mylionbabe.tumblr.com/post/174094149365/golden-dandelions-ao3-link-warnings-none-word)
> 
> Title and lyrics inside from Barns Courtney’s song Golden Dandelions. I just changed the pronouns.


End file.
